Following the directions given by the silversmith, you eventually arrive at a section of the town that is heavily gardened and with less housing.  What houses you see in this area are all cottage style with thatch roofing and built primarily from stone.  They appear to have been built sometime ago as they are covered in thick layers of growth.  A few even have trees growing through them.

Looking around, you find what you believe to be the former home of the now deceased apothecary (courtesy of the silversmiths' gift for colorful description).  The home itself is fairly simple in its construction, resembling the other homes.  Glorious, brilliantly colored flowers blossom out from the entire structure whilst the outside garden looked like a maze of trellised vines and berries.  Colored glass bottles dotted the entire property, most notably in the windows which directed the sunlight and enhanced their brilliance giving the entire scene an almost otherworldly, fairy like aura.

Nothing truly seems to stand out to you.  No visible signs of trampling or disturbance and nothing that appears out of place or missing.

Sharps keeps his sword in the scabbard as he walks boldly toward the cottage. His eyes scan the area to look for tracks, signs of a struggle or any other indicator of the horror he believes to be hiding behind the front door. Sharps opens the door wide to look in but does not step in right away.

The wooden door creaks on it's hinges as you open it.  A small swirl of dust picks up in front of you as the breeze races inside.  Before you sits a rather simple but crowded cooking area.  A few pots and pans hang from hooks but the room itself is mostly filled with bottles, beakers and small glass vials of all shapes, sizes and colors.  The walls are festooned with drying flowers and herbs giving a comfy feeling to the entire room; an intoxicating aroma slowly encircles you like a fine perfume.  A table with two stools sits in the middle of the room, still covered in herbs that are partially chopped and mashed.  To the back of the right wall you can see a door and towards the front of the left wall rises a small staircase.  The dust has only recently begun to settle so any discernible tracks are virtually nonexistent.

Sharps steps inside and closes the door behind him.

He pulls a dagger and keeps it in hand as he moves slowly through the home. He touches nothing. His goal is to investigate the upstairs, as the couple was supposedly attacked at night and that is where he imagines their bed chambers to be. Prior to that, though, he steps along that right wall, looking out the windows to see where that door might lead- to a back garden, to an outbuilding or to a set of cellar stairs.

Regardless of his discovery, Sharps does not open or touch the door. Once he is fairly certain where the door leads he will make his way back to the front door, then down the left wall to the stairs leading up. He looks for blood anywhere, including on the stairs, and then climbs to the second floor.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:17, Wed 09 Oct 2019.

Beyond the door appears to be another room, though from what you can see on the exterior it is oddly colored, with various chunks arranged in no particular order.

As you reach the stop of the staircase, the true scene of the crime unfolds.  Before you sits what appears to have been a bed chamber, but it's current condition would almost disqualify it from such a title.  The room itself appears as if a storm had blown through it.  Books were torn and pages scattered about the room.  Boxes and glassware were smashed to pieces.  Even the walls themselves seemed as if they had been scratched upon.  The bed itself was the most telling find.  Amidst the torn sheets and removed bedding, the large, dark stained pool marked the potions masters' final place.

Nodding to himself, Sharps looks for windows. He and evaluates if the damage blew the glass out or if glass was inside, indicating someone may have entered the chamber by breaking the window.

"Well, this is a madman's dream, if that is what this be," he says to himself. "A whirlwind? Dust devil? Damn mage-craft." He evaluates the room for signs of magical use, for any indications of how someone would have gained entry to the home, and then goes back downstairs and looks for something to eat.

He munches fruit or such, looks around at the herbs and spices on display and determines if any might help him in the preparation of poison of dinner. After, he wipes off his hands and then explores what lies beyond the other door on the main floor leading to the odd room.

The only entrance point, other than the front door, would be the set of windows across one wall of the room.  Neither are broken but neither is latched and open with relative ease.

Your search initially seems almost pointless as the state of the room makes discerning minute details near impossible.   Whatever the bookshelves contained was mostly destroyed but you do spy that the bed has been moved away from the wall; from scratches into the wood floor indicate it was recent.

As for food, I wouldn't recommend eating anything found in the home as it is surely rotted quite thoroughly by now.  Did you want to continue with the bedroom search or head down to other room still?

His eyes catching the bed's odd positioning, Sharps reaches down. With one hand he pulls a dagger and the other lifts one side of the entire bed, tilting it. He will examine everything: the bed itself, the wall behind, the floor beneath, looking for anything interesting.

Lifting the bed you find the entire backside was blistered with scorch marks and soot.  Upon the floor itself, a small panel lies open.

((ooc: from your description, I am unclear. The underside of the bed is charred, as if the flames originated from the panel in the floor, or the back of the headboard, implying a flame origination of the wall?))

Sharps investigated everything- the bed, the origin of the flames, the panel area, if the flames appear magical in origin or if they are mundane. He sniffs to see if there is a detectable source, like a wood fire, or if the flash happened so quickly there was no burning of papers from the bookshelf.

Sharps thinks about the layout of the home. He tries to remember which first floor room this bed's space would be over.

The underside of the bed as well as one edge along the back and, for obvious reasons, the linens are pretty scorched.  The open panel reveals what was once a simple hidden box with some sort of explosive or incendiary trap.  Whatever its' contents were, they are long gone.  The room is situated, if you worked out the math right, somewhere above the kitchen area, give or take.  The flash doesn't seemed to have gone in any considerable distance from its source.  The decimated book collection was torn into ribbons as opposed to set alight.

Setting the bed down and sheathing his dagger, Sharps takes a last look around. "Looks like the whirlwind drew open th' panel. Still don't explain that blood stain, though..."

Sharps heads downstairs. He looks through the apothecary's stores and bottles to find anything herbal or potions that could prove useful. After, he explores the closed door in the back which leads to the unknown room beyond.

Let me have an Int. check

The door gives way with ease as you gently press upon it. As the door slowly swings to the side, a beautiful, vibrant image begins to unfold.  The room itself, at least at its core of construction, appears to have been just a simple sleeping chamber, perhaps, at one time.  It's current use, however, is far removed from its original intention.

The rafters are bereft of any thatch and are instead covered by panes of brilliantly colored glass.  With the sun shining brightly outside, it gives the room a very ethereal, otherworldly quality.  The room itself has been refitted to a be a greenhouse.  Pots of all shapes and sizes fill the room, each bursting with some sort of fragrant, colorful flowers and foliage.  Towards the back of the room sits what appears to be a small alter or work table of some sort.

((Sharps rolled 12 on intelligence, so he made that roll)

"Hmmm... druid, maybe?" Sharps mumbles to himself as he takes stock of the room before him.

While you find no actual, ready-made potions, you identify several ingredients for all sorts of concoctions.  Most of the herbs and flowers have dried out (with some that makes no difference) but quite a few items were still completely viable.

Stepping into the room, Sharps investigates the altar, the room in general and tries to glean anything he may find for an indication of what it is that has killed so many people in this town.

Afterward, he goes looking for something specific. "Folks what live by the water always have storm shutters for their windows," he muses. If needed he leaves the house and walks around the exterior, looking for the shutters- and for clues.

The best you can tell, the old apothecary dabbled in some other arts.  Probably rather mundane given his profession but no way to know for certain.

The house, much like the rest in the area, possessed no shutters.

"Well, this is a place I could take refuge in, should I find a need for it," Sharps says, "but it looks as if all her secrets are long gone."

He leaves the apothecary's home and makes his way to the docks. There he looks for a person who might be willing to talk to him about what is in the water- and the drifting nature of the island.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:53, Mon 28 Oct 2019.

Surprisingly, most of the people you encounter are rather loose-lipped, suggesting it is something more than mere strangers that has them so gripped with fear.  As to the waters, no one could really pinpoint anything specific.  The majority of the tales revolved around ships that sailed out into the seas and simply never returned.  There were also a handful of tales speaking of strange creatures attacking fisherman but they seemed confined to more northern waters.

"Well, everywhere I turn is a dead end," Sharps tells a seagull who happens to be walking nearby. "Might just as well sit here on this bench and wait fer somethin' exciting ta happen." He takes a drink from his juice, kicks his feet out and watches the goings-on at the docks.

Once it seems that people are starting to make their way indoors for the night Sharps (if undisturbed this entire time) will make his way to the guardhouse and the Captain there.

If you hadn't spoken with anyone, you'd almost swear it was business as usual along the waterfront.  The only truly odd thing was the lack of ships or ship movement, otherwise, the port hummed with the usual vibrancy and life you expect to find.  As the inevitable shadows of night began to creep in, the attitude and general air shifted dramatically.  Mothers cried for young ones to come in at once as the fisherman began to hurriedly pull in their remaining lines/nets/pots.  The area rapidly changed from joyous and calm to silent and anxious.  Catching anyone you can along the way, you manage to find enough information to discern whereabouts the captain might be.

Sharps makes his way to the place where the Captain is supposed to be. Once there he reiterates his previous statements. "You got a place for an old military man in your barracks here for the over-night, don'tchya?" Sharps asks.

The captains gaze remains fixed with the same expression of anger and exhaustion as you speak.

"As much as I would like to simply offer you some room, the town itself is rather taxed, meaning nothing is free.  We have room here yes...for active guards."

Sharps shakes his head. "I can't go makin' a pledge without knowing what the town is facin', an' nobody seems to be heavy on the details. Makes it damn near impossible ta decide anythin'."

He nods to the old Captain. "As before, if you or yours is in a pinch I will render aid, an' I do hope yas survive to the morrow." He makes his way back to the inn to buy himself a place on the floor to sleep.